The Edward Said did not pan out, I'm sorry to say. So, what I have read this summer was Life on Sandpaper, by Yoram Kaniuk, may he rest; "The Real Thing" and most of "Rough Crossing" by Tom Stoppard; and The Map of Love by Ahdaf Soueif, which I think fell down in not making the 1900s characters less perfect. And I did read "Heathcliff" by Orly Castel-Bloom waiting for the bus to Jaffa. I usually read more, but I was working full-time this summer.
There's no doubt I missed out on some reading opportunities last week. At Woodland Pattern, après-museum, I fumbled buying a volume of Mizrahi writing. Flicking through the table of contents and recognizing none of the authors' names, I realized that all the Israeli writers I read, save Yehoshua, are Ashkenazi. (Yes, Castel-Bloom is also Mizrahi, according to Wikipedia, but I've only read the one story by her.) Hmm.
And also, convoluted library logistics (Why was College Library closing before 5PM last week, if you please!?) thwarted my attempt to read something by David Mura.
With one week left before classes start, I have to read something else. A mystery would go fast, maybe an Agatha Christie.